Summary:Dwayne provides Robbie with a less than sympathetic ear. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It was early in the afternoon, most of the New Warriors were either off on their own endeavors or just resting at their own residences. But not Robbie Reyes.
If anyone looked, they could easily find the Hellcharger in the garage, which was a sure sign that Robbie was already in the HQ. They could also hear the sounds of something being punched very…very hard.
Not a hard guess where to find him, but Robbie was in the training hall, punching against a sturdier than usual punching bag. His superhuman strength clearly coming into play as every time he punches it, its like it goes straight through whatever is inside, making the bag sound hollow.
He wore a black tanktop, some black sweatpants, and no shoes. He was just working out after all. Not that he needed to but…it was nice to take the edge off.
Dwayne isn't dressed much differently, his hands wrapped with tape. He's planning to do his Muay Thai routine, followed by a bout of cooldown yoga and then a full cardio blowout until he feels like dying. A pretty typical Wednesday for him.
He sees Robbie at the bag and nods, taking a seat on a weight bench and waiting his turn, "You're agitated," he says simply, taking a sip from his bottle of water.
"What else is new?"
Robbie then punches it once more, letting out a loud sound that echoes in the hall. "What about you? Or just here to train?" Robbie didn't even bother wrapping his hands apparently, though despite how long he's been at it, his knuckles don't have the slightest signs of bruising or anything like it. He's either extremely durable or he heals very quickly. or both.
"Been a few days, Dwayne. How's it been?"
"Something. I'd rather hear it from you directly than from somebody else, whatever it is," he says. "I'm the same as I always am, Robbie. My life is regimented and organized to my satisfaction. I am getting things accomplished," he says.
"Your technique needs some work. You need to follow through from the shoulder. You hit hard, but not as hard as you could. Unless you're holding back. But I don't think that's the case."
"Relationship problems."
Reach character bond level 3 for more dialogue options, only 100xp more to go. Clearly, Robbie's been in a lot of pain the past few days. He listens to Dwayne as he comments on his form.
"I'm not a martial artist like you. Don't really want to learn it either, but…maybe I should, just in case my usual approach doesn't work." he pats the thing, and he steps away from the bag, gesturing for Dwayne to take his shots if he wants.
Dwayne Taylor grunts, "Relationships are a mistake in this life. Just targets to be picked off. You don't have many weaknesses. You shouldn't add any more," he says.
"Martial arts is just another way of saying you know how to fight. There's no benefit to incompetence," he says. Dwayne steps up to the bag and focuses first with elbows and knees, rotating strikes going around the bag. "Are these relationship problems going to effect your performance?"
"Relationships help us keep going. Give us hope. I've been to the end of the line, trust me." Considering that between them, Robbie's the only one thats actually died and come back. But then he seems to sigh a bit, crossing his arms.
"Never have, never will. I'm committed to my task, and a heartbreaker isn't going to stop me." He says as he stares down Dwayne. "and it might help you to not sound like a computer all the time." Robbie says with a grin.
Dwayne Taylor finishes his first round, controlling his breathing with steady inhales, "What you hear is discipline. I am a human being. I have felt pain, I have had loss. Lost everything, in fact," he says.
"Instead of letting it break me, I let it forge me. If you need a relationship to keep you going, you are insufficiently motivated. If you need hope, then you have failed to recognize the rising tide of entropy that is starting to swallow the world. We are a palisade against that chaos."
He starts another round, going for sharp kicks, flicking his leg rapid and low, then following in with tremendous headshots that would likely concuss a normal human being on impact. "People either fit together or they don't. If they don't, then it's better to find out quickly. I personally recommend a professional if you just need a physical outlet. A high-end professional. Clean, reliable, anonymous. They can even pretend to love you, if you're into that."
Robbie seems to narrow his eyes, before he sighs and shakes his head. "Yeah, and I died." Robbie counters Dwayne's own speech about losing everything. "No, I don't -need- them to keep going. But they certainly help make the load easier. And no, unlike others, I don't want a prostitute to be the fix-all for my problems." He calls it for what it is, not trying to be polite about it.
Robbier watches him elbow the bag, watches him kick it. He can tell that Dwayne has spent a -very- long time perfecting his maneuvers.
Dwayne Taylor doesn't care about polite, but isn't particularly offended either. He aims precisely with his strikes - throat, solar plexus, ribs, knees, groin. Hard stomps into the floor beneath the bag, practicing driving his heel into the small bones of an opponent's feet, hobbling them.
"The load isn't meant to be easy. If you're having trouble carrying it, get stronger," he says. "You can't rely on other people to carry part of it. It isn't theirs to carry. And they have their own baggage to handle."
"Considering that my soul is one that houses two people in it, your advice doesn't fit the situation." True. Unlike Dwayne, Robbie was two people rolled into one: Robbie Reyes and Eli Morrow. One literally can't survive without the other. Not that Dwayne knows this, mind.
Robbie narrows his eyes at him. "Its how the world carries on. Ever hear the song 'lean on me'. We can't be strong all the time. We're humans. Some things we simply can't carry alone. Why you brought this team together, isn't it? We split the load because we lift a weight greater than any single one of us."
Clash of philosophies, or simply a difference of opinion. "At this point, we might just have to agree to disagree on that."
Dwayne Taylor finishes with the bag and gives a shrug, "If you say," he says. "I don't really like songs with words. It's distracting."
"And you're not human. And maybe I am, but I'm trying to be something more than that. Regular people, going about, getting through their daily lives. Stressing over paying the mortgage or what the drone in the next cubicle thinks or what they're going to get for their grandma's birthday - those people can be weak. We have to be better. That's not just you. That's me, too. That's Phobos. That's Raven. Even Bluebird, even if she wants to playact at just being the house mechanic," he says.
"We can choose to wallow in our pain or we can use it. I'm simply making the argument for the latter. But if you need some time to go somewhere and eat a gallon of ice cream, we have couches up on the third floor."
Robbie looks at Dwayne. "You listen to classical all day?"
Does…Dwayne actually have emotions? "This part of me is completely human. Its Eli that makes my status as a life form questionable." he shrugs. "Anyway, doesn't matter. And I don't wallow in my pain. I just use it as motivation." He looks him in the eyes.
"So go be an asshole somewhere else."
Apparently Robbie wasn't intimidated or backing down from Dwayne's lack of sympathy. "Besides, I prefer tables. I like having something to dramatically flip."
Dwayne Taylor seems strangely pleased by that response. He prefers anger to sorrow, temper to tragedy. "Techno and industrial, mostly. I suppose some of it has words, but I don't speak German," he says.
"Motivation is good," he says, heading to his yoga mat. "You can always use more of it." he says, putting his earbuds in and turning on some of that music in question, the thrumming base synching with his heartbeat as he descends into a heightened state of awareness…